To the Place Where I Belong
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Jim knows what he doesn't want, and decides to go after what he does.


**Title: **To the Place Where I Belong  
**Author: **Cassandra Mulder  
**Rating: **PG  
**Classification: **_The Office_; Jim/Pam  
**Spoilers: **Through _The Job_.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine. I would be writing cutesy Jim/Pam scenes that were transferred to the TV screen, and making out with John Krasinski if it was. So if you see me doing none of that, you know it doesn't belong to me. No infringement is intended.  
**Written: **May 26 - June 3, 2007  
**Word Count: **4706  
**Summary: **Jim knows what he doesn't want, and decides to go after what he does.  
**A/N: **Oh, I know. Another post-finale fic. I tried to avoid all the others so this one would be somewhat original, but who knows? It's probably not. But when has that stopped me before? I had to write my version, and hopefully now it's all out of my system. hehe Oddly, this was heavily inspired by the Daughtry song, _Home_, from which I also ripped off the title. I knew it was going to be good for something Jim/Pam related eventually, and then the finale happened. I'm so psychic sometimes. ;) If you enjoy, remember feedback is love!

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It was all Jim could do not to stop David right in the middle of the interview, but he figured he had come this far, he might as well go through with it. Even if he knew he could offer him the job and three times his current salary on the spot, and he would have turned it down without a moment's hesitation.

Besides, it gave him more time to think about his next obstacle - Karen. He knew exactly what he needed now, and she was going to be less than thrilled with what he had to do. She wasn't going to be the only one.

When his interview was over, he called her to find out what she was up to, and he met her at a Starbucks around the corner from where she had joined her friends for lunch. It wasn't the ideal setting to tell her what he needed to, but they were in the middle of the city, and there was no ideal place. He had to do this now.

She asked about the interview, which he shrugged off with an, "It went fine", looking everywhere but directly at her. Finally, he decided to just get it over with.

"I can't do this, Karen," he said, fiddling with the sugar packet on the table beside his coffee cup.

She frowned, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?"

"This isn't me. This suit, this haircut, corporate, Karen. Really? This is not who I am. It's who I tried to be to get away from who I really am, and I just… He might have been a total slacker, but at least he was honest. He wasn't a complete phony." He sighed, relieved to have finally said it.

Her confused expression turned to one of stone, and he braced himself for what was inevitably coming.

"This is about her again, isn't it?" Anger flashed across her features, before she replaced it with a carefully controlled frown. "God, Jim. I don't believe you. We were trying to move past this, and now what? You're going to dump me, go back to Scranton, and do what? Hope that what she said at the beach means what you want it to mean?"

"What do you want me to do? Pretend that this is okay? That I'm okay? Because I'm not. And that's not your fault, Karen. It never has been. This was all me, and as usual I screwed it all up. I didn't mean to let it go this far, and I didn't mean to hurt you, but if that's the way you feel I'll totally understand. I'm the jackass, but it would be worse if I let you keep believing this is what I want when I don't."

She seemed to be staring at her hand laying on the table, and he didn't know if silence was the best or worst thing he could hope for.

"Look, I care about you, Karen. I just-"

"Don't give me any lame excuses, Jim. You love _her_," she finished for him.

His eyes plead with her to not make it a contest. "I'm sorry."

She shrugged and looked out the window at the busy city street. "I guess wasting six months is better than six years."

He didn't know what to say to that.

Several moments passed before she stood up.

"Can I give you a ride home?" he offered, even though he knew that would be the most awkward trip ever.

She shook her head. "Actually, I think I'm going to stay the weekend. Catching up with my friends was nice, and I haven't seen them in a long time. I can get a train back to Scranton on Sunday."

"Are you sure?" he asked, wondering if she was really as fine as she looked.

"Yeah, I'm sure." She laid her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. "I'll see you around, Jim."

He nodded and watched her walk away, wondering how it had been that difficult and that easy all at the same time. Apparently she had known they were a lost cause all along, and he knew he hadn't deserved her efforts to hold on the way she had. He could understand wanting something you weren't allowed to have, and he felt worse even as he felt the weight of deceit lift from his chest.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, and picked up his virtually untouched coffee to head back to his car. He had three hours to figure out what the hell had just happened and what he was supposed to do now.

Pam's declaration at the beach had thrown him, and he hadn't been able to stop thinking about their talk afterward. Her note in his bag was the final straw, and whether everything added up to a desire to spend the rest of her life with him, or she just wanted to go back to being his supportive best friend, he had known he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

He was in love with her and nothing - _nothing_ - he could ever do was going to change that. He had tried too hard already, and he had failed miserably.

What it all came down to was Pam finding the courage to express her feelings, and now the ball was back in his court. Before it was too late he had to show her that she was still the only one. He had seen the doubt on her face too many times to think she believed it anymore.

Every mile on the way back to Pennsylvania was excruciating, and he alternately squinted at the speedometer and wondered why everyone had lied about the future and he didn't currently have a flying car. It would have been a big help.

When he finally made it back to Scranton and the parking lot of the office building, his heart started to race. It was only three in the afternoon, and he was back without Karen. There were going to be questions, and he didn't need them. He just needed to ask one.

He entered the building and restrained himself from jabbing the button to the correct floor repeatedly, because he knew it wouldn't make the elevator go any faster. He didn't know if he _wanted_ it to go any faster. He still wasn't sure what he was doing or what he was going to say, or how she would react. This was all going to seem very sudden; it did to him, and he was the one doing it.

When he stepped off the elevator, she wasn't at her desk. He glanced at the conference room window, seeing her hair pressed slightly through the blinds. He took a deep breath and rushed for the door, opening it before he could think anymore.

He apologized to the slightly stunned camera crew, and turned to a definitely stunned Pam.

"Um, are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Yes," she said without hesitation, looking him directly in the eye.

"All right. Then it's a date," he said with a smile and a clear statement of his intentions.

She smiled at him, then turned back to the camera crew, and he didn't stick around for her to come to her senses and ask him what he thought he was doing.

He had the whole day off because the trip to New York was supposed to have taken longer, so he didn't know whether to stick around and try to get some work done for two hours, or go home.

Kevin caught him staring blankly at his desk before he could make a decision. He slipped a piece of paper into his hand.

"I think we have a winner," Kevin said, and kept heading for the break room.

Jim just shook his head as he unfolded the piece of legal paper. It was the Karen versus Pam list that he had teased Kevin about the day before. He should have known he would actually go through with it. Kevin was very easily amused.

He chuckled to himself as he read the things that Kevin had jotted down in the course of twenty-four hours, but he was right. They had a winner, and her column included all the things that counted (not that his friend hadn't also focused on the purely physical), at least to him.

It was a good thing he was already ahead of the game and had asked the winner to go out with him.

He smiled to himself again, and looked back at the conference room. Pam still looked busy, so he decided to go home and work out the details of their date with her over the phone. It looked like there was a crisis in Michael's office, and he didn't want to get caught by him or Dwight and have to face a lot of curiosity and/or ridicule about why he was already back.

He had a feeling that both he and Pam would have a lot to deal with tomorrow anyway.

He left a note on Pam's keyboard saying that he would call her as soon as he got home, and left before anyone else could notice he was there.

He tossed his overnight bag on the bed when he arrived home, and sat down beside it. If he didn't let things catch up to him before he went to pick up Pam he knew he would be in trouble.

While he didn't regret any of the moves he had made so far, he was afraid that she would think they were going too fast. Which was probably true, but he had known he shouldn't be with Karen almost as long as he had been with her, and he was about as cut out for corporate as Angela was for customer service. These were not decisions he hadn't seen coming, it just took Pam stepping up to finally lift the fog that had left him lost.

They had both put themselves on the line for each other now, so he felt they would have no trouble successfully meeting in the middle. In a way, they were already there.

He laid down for half an hour before he got up, too nervous to stay still any longer. He removed the tie he had previously loosened, and rummaged through his closet, wondering what to wear the next time he saw her. He wasn't even sure where they were going yet. He had never made it that far into the date planning process.

Anna Maria's was out. He had taken Karen there on their six month anniversary, and Karen wasn't someone either of them would want to think about, even though Pam had to wonder what had happened.

Again he wondered if this was all too much, too soon, but he couldn't help going back to all the time that had been wasted. He didn't want to wait anymore. A year without her had been a year too long.

At four-thirty, he remembered he was supposed to call Pam, and smacked himself in the forehead. He was dropping the ball already, and she probably thought he had forgotten about her. He picked up the phone and quickly dialed the number to the office.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam," she said and he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Hey, it's me," he said, hoping she wasn't angry.

"Hey, you," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I thought you would have called before now."

He laughed slightly. "Yeah, I was going to, but I just… I was thinking and I lost track of time."

"Oh," she said, slight hesitation in her voice.

"I'm not changing my mind, Pam. I was just thinking about you and I got a little distracted."

He heard her own sigh on the other end of the line.

"I kind of know the feeling," she said with a laugh. "I've picked up the phone and forgotten what to say at least three times since you left."

"That's very unprofessional, Beesly."

"And totally not my fault," she said, a teasing accusation in her voice.

"I can't imagine whose fault it would be then," he teased back.

"Sure you can't." There was a pause. "So, what's up?"

"Plans. Right." He laughed a little, mostly at his nervousness talking to her. "Well, I thought I would pick you up around eight…"

"Smart move," she said, waiting for him to go on.

"And I was thinking Georgia's for dinner."

"That sounds great, Jim."

"I'm sorry I didn't stick around earlier. I just…"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's okay. I'm sure it's been a really long day for you."

"Yeah. Well, I'll see you later, Pam."

"See you later," she said softly before hanging up the phone.

He still couldn't believe this was happening, and the longer he went without the sound of her voice, the less it seemed real.

Three hours seemed too long to wait to see her again, but he took a shower (to wash away the guilt, the city grime, the mere thought of ever leaving her again) and chose an oxford shirt with no coat or tie, and black slacks. Georgia's was nice, but not formal; he wanted them to be able to be comfortable having an important conversation, as well as good food.

He alternately paced his apartment and watched the news and old sitcoms on television until seven-fifteen, when he finally let himself grab his keys and get in his car. He wasn't sure about flowers at first, but decided he should get them, because Pam deserved something nice. She deserved everything she had probably never been given. He wanted to be the guy that showed her what it really felt like to be loved and appreciated. He wanted to show her how much she was worth; how much she meant to him.

He knew flowers couldn't do _all_ of that, but it was a start.

He was worried there wasn't a florist still open, but he quickly found one downtown that didn't close until eight.

He bought her pink tulips, because they weren't as cliché as roses, and he had heard her say something about liking them once.

It was seven fifty-five when he pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. Grabbing the flowers, he took a deep breath, and stepped out of his car. This was it. This was the first step to the rest of his life, and he tried not to let the sheer magnitude of the situation cause unnecessary pressure. He was Jim and she was Pam, and they had been together for years, even if it had only been as friends. He had to remember that. They were established, which was miles beyond what most couples started out with.

He stared at her building for a moment before he set foot on the stairs to her second floor apartment. He knocked and she answered almost immediately, indicating she had been waiting for him.

"Hey," he said, and he knew his smile was probably beyond goofy.

"Hi," she said, her eyes going to the flowers in his hand.

He held them out, and she took them, a grin spreading across her face.

"Jim, you didn't have to -"

"Yes, I did," he insisted. "I hope you like them. I heard you say you did once…"

"I love them," she said. "I just need to find a vase for them before we go. Come in, and I'll give you the grand tour," she said with a laugh. "We'll be ready to go in, like, two minutes."

He stepped in after her, and realized she hadn't been joking all those months ago when she had told him how small it was. He followed her and watched as she dug through a corner cupboard in the kitchen until she found a crystal vase.

She filled it with water and unwrapped the tulips' stems from the florist's tissue paper, and quickly arranged them. She turned to him and smiled. "This is the one kitchen I told you about."

"Ah," he said, making a show of looking around. "I guess it's not bad. You know, for only one kitchen," he teased.

She rolled her eyes and picked up the vase, gesturing for him to follow, as if he would do anything else.

"This is the living room," she said, slowly turning around, her free arm held out.

It looked like her, warm and inviting. The couch looked cozy, and there was various pastel colored artwork on the walls, neatly arranged. There was an overstuffed chair in the corner, and an entertainment center across from the couch that held her TV and DVD player, along with all of her movies tucked into the shelves in alphabetical order. Apparently she didn't even stop filing at home.

She headed toward the small hallway and stopped at a doorway on the right. "This is the bedroom," she said, flicking on the light and walking over to set her flowers on the nightstand.

Jim just stood in the doorway, taking in her light blue bedding and cream colored walls, that looked cool but comforting. "This is really nice, Pam."

She smiled. It was becoming a habit. "Thanks." She walked back to the door and turned off the light.

They went back into the living room, and she picked up her purse from the coffee table. "Grand tour's over, I guess we should go."

"Yeah," he said. "I made reservations for eight-thirty, just in case. I know it's Thursday night, but you never know." It wasn't the kind of place that generally required reservations unless it was a holiday, but he wanted to make sure everything went off without a hitch, so he had planned ahead.

He opened her car door for her when they left her apartment, and when they arrived at the restaurant. He had always done that, but it felt even more important now. He never wanted to stop opening doors for her.

They were seated in an intimate corner booth, which he liked because then they wouldn't have chairs separating them, and it was somewhat private.

He was glancing over the menu when he caught her staring at him. "Do I have something on my face?" he joked, because it was what he did.

She shook her head. "No, just your face," she said, rolling her eyes at her own corny response. "I just… thank you for going to all this trouble. Grilled cheese on the roof of my apartment building would have been more than enough, but this…" Her eyes were shining. "I don't know what to say."

Jim bit back a customary joke that tried to automatically leave his lips, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. "Don't thank me, Pam. I should be thanking you for even coming with me on such short notice, and after everything that's happened."

"What happened today, Jim? I've tried not to think about it, but this morning I thought I really might never see you again, and now I'm having dinner with you. I'm a little confused, and I just can't get my brain around it."

"I saw how brave you were at the beach, and I decided to follow your lead."

She was unable to say anything.

"I was sitting in that interview this morning, and David Wallace asked me where I saw myself in ten years, right? And all I could think about - the _only_ thing I could think about - was you. And I knew that even if you never forgave me, even if we could never get back what we had, I had to try. Either way, what I was doing wasn't me at all, but I had to come home and figure this thing out. I think I finally found my way back, Pam."

"I'm glad you did." She clasped his hand and hers was warm in his.

"I broke up with Karen," he said, confirming what she needed to hear the most.

"How did she take it?"

"Not great, but fortunately she had the decency not to scream at me in the Starbucks. She definitely had a right to."

Pam sighed. "I'm sorry."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't be. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"I wish it felt that way," she said.

"Look, I don't know if you want to talk through all of this, or just forgive and forget or what. But I haven't been able to forget what you said at the beach, and one way or the other I want to start over." He took a breath, and was almost embarrassed at the words that could come spilling out of him when he was around her. He didn't know if that was why Pam was trying to bite back a smile, or if she was happy at the actual words.

"That… was not what I wanted to say. Or at least, the way I wanted to say it."

She let a little laugh escape. "It's okay."

"No, it's not, Pam. I'm sorry, for everything. For running away, and not giving you a minute to sort things out. I'm sorry for coming back and rubbing my relationship with Karen in your face, because you didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of it. I was petty and childish, and you were the one sucking it up and dealing with life, even though you had so much more to deal with."

"It doesn't matter anymore, Jim. I understand, and it's okay. I got a taste of what it was like, and it sucked. I couldn't really blame you anymore for how you reacted to me being with Roy. We both did some really unpleasant things to each other, and we're both sorry. That's enough."

"I'm still going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you," he said, and he closed his eyes. _Moving too fast_, he thought and opened them again. There was no rejection or hesitation in her eyes, as he had feared.

"I believe you," she said.

The waitress finally showed up, interrupting them. They had barely glanced at the menu, so they each ordered a glass of wine and asked her to come back in a few minutes.

"Do not let me drink more than one," Pam said.

"Lightweight," he teased.

She shook her head. "Which is why I have to be careful. Otherwise I make a total fool out of myself."

"You're cute when you're drunk," he said with a laugh.

"You only say that because I kissed you the only time you ever saw me drunk."

"Maaaybe," he said with a grin. "You also fell off a barstool. That was kind of funny."

She shook her head at him. "I have very few inhibitions to lose anymore, so that probably wouldn't be a good idea."

"Oh, this could be interesting, then," he said.

"Don't get any ideas," she said. "I don't even kiss on the first date."

He could tell she was totally joking, or at least he hoped so. "We'll see about that," he challenged.

Pam just smiled and averted her eyes to concentrate on the menu.

He tried to concentrate, too, but he knew if he didn't get to kiss her tonight he was going to go insane. He would worry about it later, because he still had to make it through dinner without making a total fool of himself. _Not that it would be unusual_, he thought.

He wound up having steak while she had linguini, and they laughed and talked, trying to catch up on everything they had missed since things had gotten messed up. He was starting to feel like the old Jim again, and they were starting to feel like the old them. He didn't care if it was a dangerous feeling, because he was ready to let go of the cynicism, along with everything else that wasn't him. They were finished hurting each other, and he had to believe in that.

When dinner was over, they took a walk around the streets of downtown until they came to the playground behind the rec center.

"I haven't been on the swings in forever," Pam said with a laugh.

"Hop on," he said.

She did so, and he stepped behind her, pushing gently on her back the moment her feet left the ground. He heard her giggle, which only encouraged him until she was flying through the air, practically squealing into the night.

Eventually she begged him to let her slow down, and he stopped pushing, waiting for her to stop. He came around in front of her and chuckled at the sight of her hair, wild and framing her face, which he could see was flushed in the glow of the street lights.

"What are we, five?" she asked him, laughing as she looked up.

He shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Maybe. Who cares?"

"I don't," she said.

"I don't either," he said, taking out his right hand to push her curls behind one ear. His fingers grazed her cheek, and she closed her eyes.

She caught his hand as he pulled it back, and pressed her lips to his palm. The action and her small hand wrapped around his wrist was having a profoundly odd effect on his senses, and he removed his other hand from his pocket to take her other hand that was lightly holding the chain of the swing. He tugged slightly, and she was on her feet, flush against him.

He could tell she was holding her breath, but she exhaled as his hand went around her back to press her closer. Her hands were resting on his biceps, practically burning him through the fabric of his shirt, as he leaned down to kiss her.

There was no resistance, and she slipped one of her hands up to rest in his hair. Her fingers did their best to tangle in the newly shortened ends, and as her wrist rested on the back of his neck, his eyes almost rolled into the back of his head. If this was what she could accomplish by merely kissing him, he was pretty sure she was going to kill him with anything else. Luckily, he couldn't bring himself to care.

The tiny moan in the back of her throat, and the way she raised up on her tiptoes to deepen the kiss wasn't exactly helping matters. If they hadn't been in a public place, he was sure any shred of self control he had left would have gone straight out the window, rushing things be damned.

She tasted like wine, and her ability to make him ten times more drunk should have scared him, but he was beyond that. Her power over him wasn't to be feared anymore, not now that he finally had her. They were finally where they belonged.

When they broke apart, he looked at her and grinned. "I thought you didn't kiss on the first date."

"This isn't our first date," she said, daring him with her eyes to remember what she meant.

"Ah," he said with a nod of his head. "Sneaky, Beesly. Very sneaky."

She shrugged. "I learned from the best."

"Indeed, you did," he said, kissing her quickly.

She reached up, mussing his hair, presumably trying to shape it into some semblance of what it once was.

"You don't like it, do you?" he asked, perfectly fine if she didn't. He really didn't anyway.

"It's not that… It's just too short, and it's really not you," she said, giving up on her endeavor. "I thought you were cute the way you were."

"I'm growing it out starting now," he said and she laughed.

"Don't do it on account of me," she teased.

"Like that would be the reason," he teased back.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured.

He would do anything for her, growing his hair out being the least of it.

"What do we do now?" she asked, in no hurry to move if her arms around his neck were any indication.

"It doesn't matter," he said, smiling down at her. He was just glad he was finally home.

Finis


End file.
